Chapter Seven

"Hey, Harry. Harry."

Ron's attempts to get Harry's attention went unnoticed, as the boy with dark hair (with fading, sickly-green tips) had his face buried in his homework or independent study or whatever it was he was studying this time. Seamus grinned and nudged Ron.

"O, Great One!" he sang out.

Harry raised his head, turning his slightly bleary eyes to them. "Huh?"

Seamus snickered. "What'd I tell ya? It's probably his undefeated status in the DL that makes him arrogant like that."

Harry just rolled his eyes. Even knowing that Seamus wouldn't joke about it if he thought it was true, Ron could see why one would get tired of it. "What do you want, Finnegan?"

"Nothing, actually," Seamus said loftily. "Ron here does, though."

Ron rolled his eyes to commiserate when Harry turned to him with a frown. "I'm heading down to the Great Hall to get something to eat. Come on."

Harry was looking disgruntled about being interrupted merely to get cajoled into eating, but he seemed to realise that Ron might have an ulterior motive, so he got up and came along.

"I'm just passing along a message from my mother," Ron said, shrugging off the implied embarrassment of it. "Apparently, she's worried about what you guys are doing for Christmas."

Harry frowned, seeming to droop and show exhaustion that he had been hiding a moment ago. "I was going to say that it's quite a ways off, to be worrying about it."

"Until you remembered that all the studying we're doing is because the term is over in a few days?"

"Yeah . . ."

Ron was starting to feel very bad for Harry. He was no closer to figuring out what Harry and Dumbledore were up to than he was when he and Neville had talked about it so many weeks ago, but he could tell how much time it ate up. Harry seemed more than just tired, though, he seemed on the verge of nervous collapse. Ron supposed that it was because You-Know-Who was out there, but the feverish way Harry threw himself into everything was worrying. He'd like to think Harry would still be alive and in a condition to fight when he finally faced the dark wizard, but not at this rate.

"Anyway, I'll take it that means you don't have plans. Mum was just going to ask Sirius, by the way, but they haven't both been at the same Order meeting in forever. Sorry to bother you about it. The point is, since you don't have plans, I'm supposed to invite you, Professor Black, and Professor Lupin over for Christmas dinner."

Harry smiled. "That's awfully nice of her, Ron. Tell her thank you."

"Well? Should I tell her to set places at the table, or what?"

Harry shrugged at that. "I have to check it with Sirius, but probably."

Ron smirked as a stray thought went through his head. "I think she's just feeling sort of like she has to make it up to you for having us over last year."

Harry took a breath at that, and Ron's smirk faded. It was hard, remembering last Christmas, when they'd been afraid Dad wouldn't make it. It seemed that Harry wasn't feeling great about it, either. Ron wondered why. He still wasn't sure about most of what happened, the night that Dad was attacked, but Harry seemed to have taken it far more personally than made sense.

"Harry?" he said, when the other boy didn't say anything for a long time.

"Sorry. I was just thinking about Kimberly."

"Kimberly Kearney? Why?"

Ron winced as the words came out of his mouth. Her dad had died, just as his father had come so close to doing, and it had been obvious to him that Harry felt guilty about it, for some reason. Maybe it was just that Harry felt guilty for not being out there, trying to challenge You-Know-Who. Maybe Harry thought he ought to be stopping people from dying. As if he could. He might be the only remaining undefeated person in the DL, but he wasn't the great Merlin yet. He didn't seem to know that the rest of them didn't blame him. Well, most of the rest of them.

When Harry woke up, his first day at home, it was nearly noon. He ought to feel disgusted with himself, but instead he just grinned at his ceiling and stretched lazily. He'd been asleep for a good fourteen hours, and he'd missed his morning workout. It felt great. He'd needed it badly. Of course, he planned to study for at least three hours or so today and he was delaying the workout, not skipping it entirely. But it still felt nice. Like something normal people did.

He didn't bother dressing, just went downstairs in an old pair of pyjama bottoms that didn't even cover his ankles. He pushed his hair back from his face as he descended the stairs, resolving to go to a barber and have it cut as soon as possible. He sat down at the kitchen table and tried to decide if he wanted something to eat or if he just wanted to make some coffee.

Kreacher appeared and made the decision for him. "Young master is awake," he said in greeting. "Kreacher will prepare a meal for him, and then he will do master's laundry."

"Okay."

A few minutes later, Harry had a full English breakfast in front of him and an admonishment to eat all of it so that young master did not waste away. Kreacher had already scurried away to collect Harry's dirty clothes, apparently fearing that Harry would protest. Harry wanted to say he wasn't that hungry, but then he ate the first bite and found himself ravenous. He practically licked the plate when he was finished. He sighed, and leaned back in his chair to enjoy the coffee Kreacher had made at his request.

Christmas break was off to a promising start, and Harry was contemplating the idea that he might sleep in again tomorrow.

Then Remus came in.

He looked pale and shell-shocked, and he didn't seem to see Harry. He stared around the kitchen as if looking for something.

"Um, hey Remus."

Remus blinked at him. "Welcome back, Harry," he managed to say, then turned around to leave again.

Harry jumped up, dispelling all thoughts of a quiet holiday from school and his contentment about his day. Something was wrong. He grabbed hold of Remus and brought him back into the room, directing him into a chair at the table.

"Sit down, Remus. Do you want some coffee or anything?"

"Have any whiskey?" Remus muttered.

"For god's sake, it's barely noon!"

Remus chuckled weakly at that, which gave Harry some relief. Whatever it was, it wasn't so devastating that he couldn't manage at least a pitiable laugh.

"I've been sacked," he shrugged. "Again. I guess I should be used to it."

"What?" Harry barked, his anxiety translating into anger when he heard that. Remus had been doing so well . . . "The restaurant can't fire you, you practically run it! What on earth for?"

He shrugged. "Everything went wrong in the kitchen and they couldn't get hold of me to sort it out. This is the third time I haven't been available when I should have been. They say they need someone more reliable."

"I thought they understood you had a medical condition?"

Remus was starting to look a little more resigned to his fate now, less shocked. "I don't have any medical paperwork to prove it. They think I have a drug problem."

"A drug problem?" Harry seethed. "That's stupid. Why don't they just give you a drug test?"

Remus made a face. "They offered to. I turned it down, and so they said they had no choice."

"You turned it . . . oh, right."

There were so many magical plants running through Remus' system that the test they'd give him wouldn't begin to make sense of them. It would look like he was on drugs, and some really weird ones at that. Of course he couldn't have a drug test. He'd probably be arrested or something.

"It's happened before, I shouldn't take it so hard," Remus said quietly as Harry went to the coffeepot to get Remus a fortifying cup. "I'll find something again, I always do."

Harry knew what had really gotten Remus upset. He's gotten serious with Tonks. He's afraid of telling her about this, because he thinks she won't stay with him if he can't even support himself. This is so messed up! I don't know why they persecute werewolves so badly, and it has to change. There's no reason for a man like Remus not to be well-respected in his community. I can't believe Remus can be so calm about it. If I'm this upset, how must he feel?

Sirius walked in. He looked back and forth between Remus, slumped over the table, and Harry standing at the counter with a mug gripped in a white-knuckled hand. He clenched his jaw and drew his wand.

"Your manager's the bloke with the comb-over, right?" Sirius asked in an ugly voice. "I'll be back in a while."

Remus shook his head. "No, don't. This might be for the best. The Order's been needing something from me for a long time, and now I can do it. Truth be told, I think I always knew I was going to do it, and it was only a matter of time."

Sirius just looked even more ugly when Remus said that, and Harry set the mug down deliberately and glared at both of them.

"Why don't I know what you're talking about?"

"Because it's none of your business," Sirius said roughly, glancing at Remus, who was pale again.

"Don't be ridiculous, Padfoot," Remus sighed. "Of course it's his business."

Sirius shrugged at Harry. "Dumbledore thinks we need a werewolf liaison, like Hagrid tried to do with the giants."

Harry felt cold when he realised that Dumbledore wanted Remus to go to the werewolf community and try to gain their trust. If Remus tried it, he was going to get himself killed. Harry had heard about what was going on with the werewolves. They were letting themselves be persuaded to join Voldemort, led by a real brute named Fenrir Greyback. Their leader had reportedly given in to his animal side, was addicted to violence and pain . . . and Remus was seriously considering going to him and possibly even challenging him.

Harry looked at the quiet, scholarly man at the kitchen table, took in the graying hair and the fear on his face. Harry shook his head.

"You can't, Remus. Don't do it."

Remus raised his head and looked at Harry soberly. "Who else could do it?"

"That's not . . ." Harry trailed off. The fear was leaving his expression, and being replaced by a cold determination, and Harry wasn't sure he would listen. "Would it help if I said I'll miss you when Greyback kills you?"

Remus stood up. "Thanks for the sentiment, Archie, but he's not going to kill me."

Harry made a choking noise of disbelief. "You're not even worried about it?"

"Of course I am, I'd have to be an idiot not to be afraid. But this needs to be done, and I'm the one to do it. I don't have any right to complain. When I said I'd do anything to bring Voldemort down, I did mean anything. The werewolves need a place to go, and better us than them."

He did have the ability to sound bone-chillingly logical when he wanted to. Harry shuddered, knowing how likely it was that Remus was going to get killed if he did this. And he'd gotten used to having Remus around in the last year and a half.

Harry stepped closer to Remus and stared him down. "I don't let my family get killed."

If he'd been any younger, Remus would have just laughed him away. Instead, Remus stared back, not budging. Harry reflected that all he was really accomplishing was making Remus more determined to carry this out—and if that was true, it was worth keeping it up, because Remus would need every ounce of determination he could find.

"Harry, this is your war we're part of," Remus said slowly. "You should be happy to have the help."

Harry flinched, broke eye contact, stepped back. That was a low blow. This was not his war, and Remus knew that.

"Sirius, you're being awfully quiet," Remus said, too casually.

Sirius sounded raw and hoarse. "I have nothing to say." He left the room.

After a moment of silence between Harry and Remus, Harry left as well, going up to his room to get a start on the studying he'd been planning to do. After that, he would look into the Pensieve he'd borrowed from Dumbledore to look over the memories a few more times. He and Dumbledore would be comparing lists of their beliefs about the location and identity of each Horcrux when he got back to school.

Below him, in their practice room, Sirius paced back and forth, raging. He would gladly be the one to go, but Remus wouldn't hear of it. Remus was the one who could make a difference. He punched the padded practice dummy once, twice, a third time, and then collapsed against it, using it to hold himself up. He tried to keep his cries silent.

The only real reason that Remus came along to Christmas dinner at the Weasleys, Harry thought, was to get away from Tonks. He was preparing to go to the werewolves this very night and was so totally and quietly anxious that Harry didn't know how he'd make it through dinner without throwing it up. Harry wasn't mad at him anymore, his anger had been little more than a defense against the fear of his death. But Remus wasn't here for dinner, he was here to escape Tonks. She kept trying to talk to him.

"All right, Harry?" Ron asked jovially, strolling in when Arthur had just finished welcoming them in.

"Oh, hey, Ron."

He heard a footstep behind him, and quickly grasped his wand to raise a shield, straining to include Sirius and Remus in it, just in case. A very feminine sigh of exasperation came from behind him, and he turned with a grin.

"Never going to happen, Ginny, not to the undefeated champion of the DL."

"Never say never, Harry," she grinned back. "Now come on into the other room, Bill and Charlie are here for dinner, as well. And Bill," she added with a glint in her eye that looked dangerous, "brought a girlfriend." She paused. "Those are my older brothers, by the way, Bill and Charlie."

Harry just smiled and said, "I know." But inside, he was gleeful. Bill and Charlie both knew him, but he didn't think they'd told anybody. Ron or Ginny would have mentioned it by now if they had. This might be fun.

Apparently, they'd both been thinking the same thing. They descended upon Sirius and Harry as soon as they entered the room.

"Great to see you," Bill said, shaking Sirius' hand. "There has been a dearth of ponytails in Egypt without you."

"Harry, my favourite pen pal!" Charlie boomed, clapping him on the back. "You never told me how you liked your first year of Hogwarts!"

Sirius and Harry greeted them warmly, offered a few exclamations of their own, and asked questions about work and life. The family just gaped at them. The four of them all turned around with matching smiles of amusement.

"You, er, know each other?" Arthur ventured.

"Oh, we're old mates," Charlie assured them, slinging an arm over Harry's shoulders. "Go to Quidditch games . . ."

"Get a few pints . . ."

"You know, like mates do," Harry concluded.

Sirius, left without a good line, just chuckled and took pity on the confused family and explained how they'd met. Harry was busy staring at the one person who was obviously not a member of the Weasley family. She was stunning. Every individual feature was perfect, but the whole was more than perfect. Her figure, her face, that beautiful sheet of hair that nearly glowed, and something indefinable but overwhelming. After a moment, Harry was able to define it, and that gave him the ability to look away. She was veela, or part-veela at least, and Harry had never allowed himself to be susceptible to their charms after his experience with Stephanie. Must be that girlfriend of Bill's. Harry couldn't shake the idea that he recognised her, but he had no idea why he would.

She stepped forward boldly. "You are 'Arry Potter?" she said in a purring voice. He couldn't place her accent immediately.

"I am. I feel like I should know you . . ."

"My name eez Fleur Delacour, you may 'ave seen my photograph in ze paper."

French, then, that was obvious now. And Fleur Delacour, of course! The Beauxbatons champion from the Triwizard Tournament. He had, indeed, seen her picture in the paper, even if he hadn't followed her successes and failures in the tournament very well.

"Oh, yes," he said, and stopped there. Didn't seem tactful to try to find common ground mentioning the tournament, since she'd come in last and been injured in the process.

She saved him, stepping forward to clutch his hands and smile very prettily. "It eez so lovely to meet you, 'Arry. May I call you 'Arry?"

"Of course," he said gallantly, and kissed one of her hands with a wink. She giggled throatily. "So, I've been told you're here with Bill. How did you meet him?"

"I 'ave come to leev 'ere for a while, to eemprove on my Engleesh. I work for Gringotts, now."

"You seem to be doing very well with your English," Harry said, guessing that the real reason she had come to England was the long-haired Weasley in question, and stepped back to make room for Bill.

Bill slipped his arm around the willowy woman. "I see you've met Fleur."

"You're a lucky man, Bill," Harry said, privately thinking that Bill could have her. She was such an obvious flirt. Harry liked his women a little less catty. He let the two of them retreat into their own private little lovers' world, which true lovers could go to no matter where they were, even if it was sitting on their parents' tatty sofa with tons of people around them. All it took was one brilliant smile from Fleur and a tightening of Bill's arm around her, and they were gone. Harry found Charlie again and they chatted about Charlie's work in Romania for a few minutes.

Molly poked her head out of the kitchen. "Is everyone here, now?" she asked. Her eyes darted around the room. "Waiting for one more," she declared, before anyone could answer her, and ducked back into the kitchen. The smells coming from the room were unbelievable, and Harry thought he would cry with happiness when he got to the table. He didn't know who they were waiting for, though. That was strange.

That question was answered only moments later. The fireplace whooshed, and then Tonks stepped through, brushing ash from her blouse and looking very strange in a conservative skirt and plain brown hair. Harry hardly recognised her. Last time he'd seen her (the night Remus had spoken to her and it had ended in her shouting and slamming doors and him beginning to cry then going cold), she'd been in her usual clunky boots and purple hair. Harry wondered whether she had made the change just to be polite to Molly or because she was trying to say something to Remus.

This was Tonks, he reminded himself, who was rather brilliant and devious when she wanted to be. She would have done it for both reasons, and probably another one he hadn't guessed yet.

She shook a few hands and thanked the Weasleys very prettily for the invitation. Remus had retreated, looking pale and angry, into a corner, but Tonks was ignoring him. Very much on purpose. She'd followed him here, and now she was going to let him stew in that realisation.

"Wotcher, Harry," she said in greeting, giving him a quick hug.

"Merry Christmas," he returned. "You look nice."

"You sound surprised. I can look nice." She pretended to pout.

"I reckoned you could. Just never thought I'd see it. But I was being serious, you do look good."

"Thank you. You clean up pretty well, yourself."

"You sound surprised," he drawled, grinning. He did, in fact, clean up well. He was wearing a black button-down and a pin-striped vest with his jeans, and he'd finally gotten his hair cut. It was a far cry from his usual ratty t-shirts and dishevelment.

He was perfectly willing to help her make Remus squirm, since he was on Tonks' side in this particular argument (and he knew the argument very well, having heard it being shouted at the top of her lungs the other night). So they laughed and joked and he got her a glass of wine, and he escorted her to the table. The only people Remus talked to were Bill and Fleur. Fleur was being ignored very obviously by Ginny, so by the time they all got to the table for dinner, emotions were a little frayed.

The meal was excellent, which was a given when Molly was cooking, and was followed by a lot of groans about being too full and final glasses of wine. The Weasleys hadn't said a word about what had gotten into Remus and Tonks, but they were very understanding about the two of them slipping away from the table and not being there for dessert. Harry and Sirius did their best to be overly jovial to cover for the absence. It was, all in all, not comfortable.

After dinner, Harry and Ginny and Ron retreated upstairs, which was the safe zone for impoliteness and adolescence, so that Harry could ask them why in hell everybody was being so mean to Fleur. She was nice enough, and Bill was obviously infatuated.

"Exactly," Ginny sniffed. "Infatuated. She goes all dazzly and he just does whatever she wants."

"You can't be serious," Harry chuckled. "You think that just because she's got veela blood, she can keep him under her thumb for months at a time?"

Ginny shrugged irritably. "What do I know about veelas?"

"That they're bloody gorgeous," Ron said lazily, with a silly little smile on his face.

Ginny snorted. "We all know you went mad over her during the tournament, but—"

With a glance at Harry, she cut herself off.

"Shut up, Harry, I know."

"I didn't say anything."

"You were looking at me. You had that look that says you're disappointed in me."

Harry didn't deny it.

"I'm better than I used to be. Anyway, sorry Ron, I know it's no good taking it out on you. The point is, I think Bill could do better. That's all."

"He's in love with Fleur," Ron pointed out. "Maybe he could do better, but he doesn't want to."

Ginny huffed and crossed her arms, and Harry offered to let her duel him to a standstill so get it out of her system.

"I'd lose, so why bother?" she sighed. Then she gave him and Ron both a sunny smile. "I'm glad we're all friends now. You guys are so much better than the girls in my year."

"At least until you start in about how cute Dean is and how you doodle his name in hearts on your notes in class . . ."

"Ugh, I do not," she muttered.

"Ginny's more the type to get it tattooed on her ass," Harry snickered.

She growled in outrage, but then they decided to find Fred and George and Charlie to play some Quidditch out behind the house. Harry was determined to fill up his day as much as possible, so he didn't have time to think about the fact that this time tomorrow, Remus might be dead.

"We need to talk."

"We did talk."

"We need to talk again. You weren't listening the first time."

"I heard you fine. I just disagree."

Tonks scowled as the cold air flapped her skirt around her legs. She stopped and Transfigured it into a pair of corduroys that would go a lot farther toward keeping her warm.

"What do you want me to say, Dora?" he asked. He was the only one besides her parents who could call her that, and when he said it in that soft, heart-melting way of his, she couldn't be angry with him. Except that she was. He was being so completely pig-headed about this, and she had to be tough until they'd solved it. "I have told you over and over that I don't want to see you anymore."

Those words hurt her in a way that these ridiculous pumps she was wearing never could. She stopped again to Transfigure them into more sensible shoes. At any other time, it would have made him laugh, but he didn't. Well, she hadn't expected it to.

"But I know perfectly well that it's a lie. You love me, Remus."

"You seem awfully sure about that."

"You would have said it to me when we had dinner a week ago, if you weren't so insecure. I could tell."

He sighed, and it sounded frustrated. "Okay." He turned to look her directly in the eyes. "I love you." He let out a nervous laugh. "That's just like me, to say it for the first time now. I love you, and that's the truth. I don't want to see you anymore, and that's also the truth."

She would not cry she would not cry she would not cry— Blast it all, she was crying. "Why?"

"What do you mean, why? You know where I'm going."

"Yes."

"And do you know what I will have to do?" he asked in a very soft voice.

She clenched her teeth and willed her tears away. You are a big, tough Auror, and Aurors don't cry. The tears obeyed her. "I can guess."

He was angry with her, she could tell. She could always tell when he was angry with her. "No, I don't think you can. I can't guess very well, myself."

"What does it have to do with us, though?"

"Let me tell you what I think I will have to do. I will have to fight everyone who thinks they can take me."

Faded clothes, premature gray hair, soft-spoken ways . . . she loved him for every bit of it, but it made him look like an easy target. He wasn't, but they would think so. Yes, he would have to fight.

"And then I will have to prove that I'm their leader. They are used to Greyback, and we know what he's like. I'm going to have to convince them there's a better way, but it will be slow. Until then, I am going to have to . . ." He struggled to explain it. "I will be causing pain. A lot of pain. For some time, who knows how long, I am going to have to do the one thing I swore I would never do. I'm going to have to give in to the animal. Not all the way, not forever, but I can't go in there thinking I won't have to do things that repulse me."

He looked so very, heart-breakingly, tired and afraid. She ached with every muscle in her body to touch him, but he would pull away, and that would shatter her.

"You can't see that, Dora. I don't want you to. I don't want you to see me that way."

Now she finally had the reason. The absolute torment she'd been through in the last few days was because he didn't want her to witness the things he might have to do when he went to the werewolves.

She couldn't help but laugh a little. "You stupid man," she cried out, catching hold of his hands and not letting go when he tried to pull back. "You stupid, stupid man," she repeated, leaning her forehead against his chest and suddenly choking on tears again. "This was all because you wanted to protect me?"

Hesitantly, his hands pressed against her back. "Why is that stupid?"

"I don't need it," she murmured. "I don't want it."

His hands were trying to pluck her away, but she wasn't going anywhere. "Don't you understand? I'm not going to be the same. I can't act like one thing when I'm with them, and then become something else when I'm with you, I'm just not that good an actor. I have to become this person, all the time. I'm not going to be who you want me to be—"

"I've never wanted you to be anything," she said sharply, pulling back on her own now. "I love you for who you already are, and this won't change that. You are doing this for the right reasons, and whatever you're forced to do . . . Remus, don't you know that we're all having to do things we don't want to? We're fighting a war, and I'm an Auror. I've had to do plenty of things I'd rather not." She found herself gripping his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. "I don't care what you think you might have to do. When we know what you really have to do, we'll worry about it then. It's not as though you won't have done them if I don't know. But you're not doing it alone. We've talked about this. You've been alone long enough, and you're never going to be alone again. Whatever you have to do, you do it, and then you come home and I'll be there to fix it. You can't go for so long without having me there to heal you. I want to be there, and you can't make me go. You don't even need to make me go. I'm not afraid of you, Remus, and I never will be."

He might have started to argue again, but she had a fail-safe plan for winning their arguments. She leaned in and kissed him. It wasn't a quick peck to surprise him. It was a deep, binding kiss that claimed him as her own and made sure his lips were occupied until they forgot what they'd been about to do. Kissed him until he probably thought it was his idea to begin with. He might be foolish and stubborn and insecure and shy, but he was hers, because she loved him, and she wouldn't let him go. He would find it awfully hard to push her away if she was all but wrapped around him.

He watched them from the shadows, wanting to count them and figure out who was important. There were twenty-one, with thirteen men to seven women, and one who was barely a teenager, if that, and so skinny that he couldn't tell whether it was a boy or a girl. That was all he had time for, before their leader, the notorious Fenrir Greyback, lifted his head and stared right into the dark patch where he hid.

"I can smell you," he growled, stalking forward.

He wouldn't wait for Greyback to come to him, so he stepped out to meet him. His pulse hammered, and he was certain that Greyback would hear it and feel it. He'd given in to his wolf so completely that even in human form, his senses were unbelievable. But what did it matter if he was afraid? Surely he had the right to be. Surely everyone who found them, came here, was afraid at first.

He cast his eyes around their little settlement. Or maybe that fear never left them.

"What are you?"

That was a tidy little question. It summed up his name and qualities, and would basically answer the question of what he was there for. And there was really only one answer he could give, wasn't there?

"I am a werewolf," he said calmly. And in case that wasn't enough, "I've come to join you."

Greyback started to circle him. He followed the older werewolf's movements, tracking the placement of his feet, shifting his own in response. They kept their eyes on each other.

"What's your name?"

"Remus Lupin."

Greyback stopped circling and bared his teeth. In the periphery of his vision, Remus could see a few others do the same. Apparently they'd heard of him.

"I had no idea I was such a pariah," he said, trying to maintain the calm attitude he was projecting.

"You have been begging scraps from their table for years, and now you come crawling to me, like a starving pup?" Greyback's teeth were hideously yellow and his face was a mask of degradation.

"I had no intention of crawling."

This was what he had to become, if he was to do this. Not ugly and rotted like Greyback, but dangerous and cruel and cunning. And he would. It started now. There was no more room for fear, no more thoughts of beautiful woman who were crazy as hell, nor more regretting that his new family would miss him. Just this. Just standing off with Greyback, and winning. He hadn't wanted this, had never wanted to be this. But they couldn't afford to have this desperate little settlement go to Voldemort, and he was the only thing that could stop them from doing it.

Greyback was snarling at him, snarling and crouching like he meant to attack him. It would be next to useless in this form, although Remus had no doubt that Greyback had spent more time learning violence as a wolf than he had.

"You think you can stroll in here and do as you please?"

"I didn't think anything," he said levelly. "I've come to be with my people."

"Took you long enough," someone behind him muttered.

Merlin, he really was famous, wasn't he? Of all things, he'd never expected that. Maybe they thought he was Dumbledore's pet or something. But he'd bet everything he had that Dumbledore had shown him more consideration than Greyback had given to any of them. Hell, he was betting it all right now.

"I can smell it on you," Greyback said, just when Remus began to relax, to think that he'd say yes and allow Remus in. "I can smell your superiority. You think you're better than me." He began to circle again. "You think because your master groomed you and fed you well, that it made you better than me. But I've never been a slave, Lupin. I've never accepted what they said was good enough for the likes of me. You're a slave, and I'm free."

He began to shuffle his feet and follow Greyback's circling movement again. He felt the tension in his body, strained to the breaking point. He was expecting Greyback to leap on him at any moment. He was in the crouching position of a wolf ready to spring. The only thing to do was pick a fight and start it on his terms.

"I am better than you, Greyback. Twenty-nine days a month, I'm human, and I remember how to act like one. You were so weak that you gave in to what you are on that other day of the month."

As he spoke, he slipped off the patched cloak, the heavy robes, that declared him to be a wizard. He shed everything but his trousers and a t-shirt he'd borrowed from Sirius. It was all Greyback was wearing, and he was signaling his intention to see this through. He refused to shed his shoes, though Greyback was barefoot. He thought he might need them.

The other werewolf paused a moment, surprised by Remus, and Remus gave him a vicious, toothy smile. He might not look like much at first, but he'd been living and training with Sirius and Harry for a long time, now. He filled out the t-shirt quite nicely. He rather regretted that Greyback, not Dora, was the first person to see him in so little clothing, but he wasn't thinking about Dora now. Every moment, he slipped further and further into the character he was making for himself. The character was him, or rather it was the him he'd promised he would never be.

"This isn't what I want, Greyback," he said calmly. At least, it sounded calm. Inside, he was shaking with fear. "I only came here to join you, not fight you. But I have no intention of bowing to you." He broke the intense focus they'd maintained on each other to look at the werewolf closest to him. They'd created a ring around him and Greyback, and he made eye contact. "Did you all give in so easily? You just gave him your neck like submissive animals? Aren't you all thinking people, as well? Yet you crawl for him. Why? Don't you know that he's leading you straight to hell? Don't you know that Voldemort" (for he would not quail at using the name, not now) "will eradicate us, too? And you're on the verge of letting this fool take you to him."

The man he'd spoken to looked away. The muttering from the ring of spectators was tinged with anger. He'd probably turned them all against him, and it probably meant he'd have to fight each of them by turn. But he couldn't think of that now. Greyback came first.

And then he came. He leapt forward with a howl of rage, arms reaching and teeth bared. Remus ducked and put his shoulder into it. It was no great matter to use Greyback's momentum to roll the brute over his back and into the dirt behind him. He spun around to be sure Greyback couldn't get at him from behind. But he was still thinking too much like a human, because Greyback didn't get up again to hit him. He scrabbled forward and sunk his teeth deep into Remus' leg.

Remus let out a cry and jerked away, feeling the muscle in his leg tear. His heart yammered with terror, for the man was more beast than he'd wanted to believe. He was going to have to fight him this way, as some kind of animal? With teeth and claws? Remus didn't have to use teeth to fight dirty, but he did have to fight dirty.

So be it.

When Greyback came again, with teeth bared, Remus kicked him in the face. Greyback was jolted back into the dirt, shouting with pain. He grabbed for Remus' leg as if to pull it out from under him, but he sidestepped quickly and brought his foot down again on Greyback's arm. It didn't break, but he didn't pull away quickly enough.

What use is giving in to the wolf if it means you can't fight as a human? Remus thought with bewilderment. Greyback was laughably inept at this. He relied completely on his big muscles and on the shock he caused with his corrupt nature. If anyone had wanted to fight him after he snarled in their face, one good punch from those huge arms had likely taken care of it. But Remus had learned how to dodge.

Greyback got back up and they ended up grappling for control, grabbing at necks and trying to land punches. Greyback kept trying to sink his teeth in, but Remus was quick. Still, between the dirty fingernails and the number of bites, he had ended up with a lot of small cuts that stung fiercely. Finally, Remus realised what a silly fight this had turned into. He stopped trying to land a punch. He slipped out from under Greyback's flailing arms, caught one of them, spun around behind him, and broke it with a snap so loud that some of the onlookers groaned.

He was too confident. Greyback ignored the pain enough to turn around with shocking speed, and the next thing Remus knew, he was on the ground with Greyback's teeth buried in his neck. He gasped for breath and beat his fist into Greyback's temple until the man was too stunned to keep up the assault and became sort of limp. Remus rolled him over and got on top of him and punched until Greyback's face and his own hands were a bloody mess. He was lost in a red fog such as he had never felt in his life. He'd never let go like this.

When he came back to himself, he was still straddling Greyback's limp form, each heaving breath making him aware of the blood that stuck his shirt to his chest. There were twenty men and women and one child staring at him in shock and fear. But a disturbing amount of respect.

He got up, checking to make sure that Greyback was breathing normally after that many blows to the head, and faced them.

"Most of you came here because you wanted to be with people who understand you. You wanted a community who supported one another. Greyback promised to change the way you were treated. It wasn't until you were under his thumb that you realised how he was going to change it. Am I right?"

The murmurs were a confusing mixture of surprise, assent, and ugly disagreement. Some of them had come here knowing exactly what would happen.

"And now that you've beaten him into submission, just like the animal you said you were better than, are you going to lead us to join Dumbledore instead? Fighting off whoever disagrees?"

Remus stepped away from Greyback, and staggered. "No. I wanted none of this. I came here to join you, but not if it meant becoming his slave. Those of you who want that life, you can follow him. I'm here for the same reason you came here, to find a community. If I have to fight off predators, then I will. That's all there is to it."

While they stared at him, Remus wondered how this might have gone differently. He could have let Greyback make the rules. If he had, he would have had to bow and scrape for favour, and become one of the ravenous, hollow-eyed men on the fringes of the crowd. He could have submitted instead of fighting. If he'd worked hard enough, he might have been able to bring some of these people away from Greyback. But this way was better. This way, it was clear from the beginning that the community was divided and that Remus wasn't here to become one of Greyback's lackeys. The people he might have been able to convince were already going to see him as a leader. Saved time, beating Greyback to a pulp.

In truth, he knew he had changed. Something about having Dora and Sirius in his life had made him different. In truth, the idea of submitting, of backing down from the fight, had not occurred to him until this moment.

Harry was the first person he saw when he stumbled back to the house, wanting nothing more than medical treatment before he went back to the other werewolves. He'd continued to play the hard case. Anyone who wanted to try to salvage a real community out of their group could stay. Those who didn't could drag their unconscious leader off to somewhere else, and be gone before he returned.

Harry was in the kitchen, which was where he'd hoped to quietly find Kreacher and swear him to silence. He wouldn't have even bothered returning if he weren't afraid of infection.

Harry jumped up from the table. "Holy crap, Remus!"

"Shhh," he admonished.

"What do you mean, 'shh'? You're bleeding like mad!"

"It's just a few bites and scratches. You should see the other guy."

Harry paused. "You beat Greyback?" He grinned savagely. "Stay here, I'll get some stuff to clean you up." He looked Remus up and down. "You can finish this tea, it's still hot."

Remus sank down gratefully and pulled the cup to him. His hands spasmed and he found himself barely able to hold onto the cup, much less drink out of it. He was shaking so hard his teeth were starting to rattle. Then a pair of hands that were decidedly not Harry's slid over his shoulders. He let out a gasping breath and leaned back into her arms, not caring how she got there or what she was thinking.

Neither of them moved or spoke. He slowly relaxed, with her arms around him and his head resting against her. The shaking stopped.

"I knew you'd need me," she murmured.

Harry came back in with his arms full of bottles and bandages. He was only too experienced in this kind of thing, after the job Sirius had taken in Austria.

"I can't stay," Remus said hoarsely.

"This won't take long," Harry said with assurance. He handed him a bottle clearly labeled as Blood Replenishing Potion.

Remus grimaced. "I'm not badly injured or anything, I don't need this."

Dora made a sound of dismay. "Your neck looks like raw hamburger."

Surprised, he tried to turn his head, and saw that the blood that made his shirt so sticky was his, after all. It hurt to move his head. He humbly drank the potion, and followed all of Harry's further advice. Sirius had come in, at some point, and was standing against the wall with his arms crossed, just observing. Remus nodded to him.

He related, briefly, what had happened while Harry cleaned him up. As soon as he was certain that he wasn't going to die of blood loss or raging infection, Remus got up again.

"Thanks, Harry."

He tried to exit, but Harry gripped his arm, hard.

"This isn't worth it, Remus."

Remus sighed. "You didn't see Greyback. You didn't see how they feared him, and what he's like. I just took most of them away from him, and away from Voldemort. If he'd told them to, they would have hurt us. Now they won't. And that, Harry, is worth whatever I have to do."
Harry bit his lip. "You're right." His grip became painfully tight. "Thank you."

Instead of leaving, he turned back to Dora, not even caring that the other two men were still there, watching.

"I won't see you for a while, but I'll wish I could, every day." Then he cupped her face and kissed her. He took his time and did it right. "Wait for me," he whispered. Then he left. There was a group of desperate people who wanted a leader waiting for him, and it wouldn't do to leave them for long.

Harry stood in front of his mirror and stared at himself. He looked frightened. He had good reason to be.

"I'm forgetting what this is all for," he said.

He stared at himself for another minute. He looked the same as he had before he'd spoken.

"I'm forgetting what's at stake."

"I'm forgetting that I'm a part of all this. I spend so much time shut up in an office or buried in a book, and I'm losing touch with all of it."

"I'm starting to forget that these are real people we're trying to save."

After all that was said, the thing he wanted to do seemed justified. Something he had to do, with courage and resolve the way Remus seemed to be doing his own task. Harry was in the same position: the only one who could serve their side in just this way. And he'd been refusing to do it all this time. Who did he think he was?

He lay down on the bed, closed his eyes, and slowed his breathing. Just before he slipped into sleep, he released the barriers. He'd held them in place so long, it was as natural as breathing now. It took real effort to remember how he'd constructed them, and bring them down. It took a long time, but he finally did it. When he fell asleep, his mind was naked, open to Voldemort's influence. It had to be done.

When Harry woke up in the morning, he wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed that he hadn't dreamed. It seemed that, unlike Harry, Voldemort wasn't ready to throw caution to the wind.